Delphinium, or A Necromancer's Home (TCoLaD Book 2)

Church

~ (Continued) Hexday, 1st of Maius, 11831 ~

That night Pierre locked himself in his room. He had thought he dealt with the guilt, but he had just pushed it aside. He had made a lovely young woman a widow, and now he learned he had taken away a child's father. And Renaud! Oh, Renaud was almost mad with grief and a desire to try and find his brother. Jourdain had disappeared and his brother had not noticed for so long. The idea that Aimé or Piers could be taken and Pierre not notice? And then be unable to help them as well? It made Pierre feel ill.

But Feuilles had conspired with his sons to have him killed. That much had been evident. Perhaps it would be difficult to prove (how does one explain having tasted and known the poison and then not even been ill?) but he knew.

Pierre looked at the letter that Renaud had given him. Lord Eichel's reply. Something sat heavy in the corner of it, betraying the answer before it was even opened. For all he worried about his brother, the young advisor had finished what he had been sent to do.

Half an hour after locking himself up, Pierre exited the room and made his way out of the château. He refused to say where he was going, only taking the time to ease Elizabeth's concern.

"I just need to think," he told her after she stopped him in the hall. "And to be alone. I will be back soon."

She thankfully did not pry, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Of course. Go on. I will stay and keep Cordelia company."

Her smile was a spot of light.

Pierre threw a handful of coins to the coachman in the courtyard and told the driver to take him into town as the duc shut himself in the back. He did not have his cane with him, or the proper attire for the evening, and Pluta was not with him, either. He found he could not bring himself to care.

The coach did not move for almost too long and, as he was about to open the door and complain, the horses began to move.

Pierre sat back, fiddling with his hands. There was no deck of cards in his pocket to keep him occupied. He was alone with his thoughts.

The burden of a murder had never before filled him with such guilt. Was this due to his humors being in disarray, a manifestation of being more in tune with Faery? Or had Mora at all other times taken this guilt away, and without her favor, he felt what a horrid thing he had truly done.

It felt as if he were in the coach for an eternity before they stopped in town.

Pierre got out after a faint shout told him they were at their destination, turning to tell the driver not to wait for him, when he saw that Sabine was being helped down from up front. Had he walked into her chosen carriage without realizing it? Or had she known he was going and followed him?

Sabine thanked the coachman and made her way to Pierre, holding out an arm and waiting for him to take it as her escort as if nothing were wrong. She said nothing, but was smiling gently. It felt like the smile of a friend, of family. Pierre swallowed, and did as a gentleman should, taking her arm. She also handed him a hat-box, which he dutifully took in his free hand. It was far heavier than it should be.

They walked together down the dim street.

"It will not be the last time you take a life and see dire consequences," she said, breaking the silence.

"So you heard what I did."

"I have. I am sure you had your reasons to kill him. And I have done worse and felt worse, I assure you."

He wanted to reply that she had not, but he was not certain of that fact. She had been a confidante of death for a long time.

"I know what it is like to be without a father," he said instead. "And mine merely disappeared when I was a child. I knew him for a time. And then I had the roi as another father, and my uncle often visited... yet I still plan to kill Renaud if I can, and the comte after him. From what I know, Cordelia has no family left herself. I will be leaving her and that child alone."